When I was in college at Binghamton, I participated in several rallies and sit-ins. Some were globally meaningful, as during the run-up to the first Gulf War in 1990. Some were less so, to combat the cost of parking stickers on campus, although the parking issue actually had real-life toll on the cost of college for commuters, and a couple hundred upset students might actually have had an impact. I don’t remember how that ended. I do know we didn’t prevent American troops from fighting Iraqis. 

An early protest took place in the lobby of the administration building, which meant a lot of kids making noise in the lobby of an administration building, where we bothered no-one. All the offices were on the third floor or higher, an elevator or fire-stairwell away. I suppose a few meetings were canceled, but I think people might have even come and gone while we sat in. Ultimately, it was the college equivalent of a parent putting a toddler in the playpen to cry themselves to sleep. Noisy, but contained, and honestly, not that hard to ignore. 

A few months or a year later, people were protesting something else. I want to say it was more significant, I think there was a tuition-hike issue, but I honestly don’t recall. Either I was more invested, or this one was better run, because as detached as I was from the organizing, I remember a strategy meeting of some sort beforehand. Some out of town folks from another school had come to join us, and these women had a much more aggressive and to me radical, attitude. I think they were even wearing boots (gasp). This protest would ignore the symbolic admin building and be at an actual functioning and important part of campus – the recruiting office. At the appointed time, we marched in and chanted “hey-hey, ho-ho” for several hours, and made a ruckus that made phone calls to and from prospective applicants and parents difficult, and maybe postponed some campus tours. My description is not meant to be dismissive, merely self-deprecating. I was a hobbyist, complaining about something that inconvenienced me, at most. Others there likely had more skin in the game. As we filed out, at some appointed time or achieved goal, I wasn’t far behind the women from out of town. I saw one of them pull the fire alarm, and I was mortified at her behavior. So thuggish, so rule-breaky. I felt so bad that we’d (she’d) done something illegal. It obviously impacted me enough to remember, unlike the issue we were protesting, which I can not recall. 

I’d like to go back in time and slap young, prudish me across the face. I’d like him to know how much he would learn to respect and admire people who pull down statues and stop traffic, instead of being led politely away. I’m going to run out of rational words in a minute and just start typing curse words and bleeps. I’m not going to convince anyone of anything on a Facebook post. This is a memory recollection project for me, and I’m remembering that not long after this protest, or maybe not long before it, a black student who graduated from Binghamton was found dead, hanging from a tree in the woods not far from the mall near my house. I didn’t know him, didn’t know he was from nearby. But I admired him. I have literally no more information about his life or health beyond what I just wrote. It was quickly ruled a suicide. 

What I remember is how angry hearing that ruling made me. It was the first smoldering feeling that the woman who pulled that alarm did so because she could smell the smoke from the fires that I did not want to see. 

I’ll end with a link to a song I listen to over and over when I’m this mad. It helps me not scream. The link is to the YouTube video, which is horribly produced, because they’re an indie band. I’ve literally never seen it until now. The music though, fills me with hope: https://youtu.be/YT7z2WpFIng