I Was Punched And Pepper Sprayed By Cops That My University Administration Set On Student Protesters

I was punched and pepper sprayed by cops that my university administration set on student protesters yesterday. Including once where a cop ripped my mask off my face, grabbed my jaw, and sprayed pepper sprayed straight into my mouth. The university sent out an alert in the middle of our protest canceling classes for the rest of the day, only citing “adverse conditions”. After protesters dispersed under threat of even more violence and three buses of riot police from all over the state with rubber bullets and bully sticks parked in front of one our school’s famous landmarks. I staggered over to a couple of friends who were watching on the sidelines. They gave me water and an apple and held a bag of ice on my very pepper spray irritated face. As they were walking me back to my dorm we ran into one of their roommates. She had taken cancelled classes as an opportunity to get crumbl cookie with her friends. Standing in front of her, happy in a floral blouse with her box of cookies, in my pepper spray and water soaked tshirt, keffiyeh sadly hanging off my shoulder, holding an ice pack to my mouth, felt like a slap in the face.

After putting my pepper spray soaked clothes, shoes, and keffiyeh in a plastic bag and taking an extraordinarily painful shower, a friend and I went for dinner just off campus. There we had a pot of green tea and ramen to soothe pepper sprayed throats. We got ice cream after (shared a cup with chocolate and raspberry pomegranate with strawberry pieces on top, it was very good). From our spot outside the ice cream place we watched a steady stream of groups of sorority girls in matching jeans shorts and blue bikini tops walking back to their apartments after some apparently raucous parties. The cognitive dissonance was insane. I really felt a little like I was going crazy.

Even this morning, waking up to the smeared sharpie of the National Lawyer’s Guild’s phone number on my arm, a black and blue chest from where a grown man straight up clocked me while I was held up by two other protesters in a wall, and a still sore throat and eyes from the pepper spray, life goes on like normal. I still have final papers to write and a math exam to review for.

I’m not sure I really have a point. But, this feeling only makes me want to fight harder for a free Palestine. So, fuck Israel for being an apartheid state and all of their crimes over the last 76 years. Fuck university administration for not disclosing their level of investment in Israel. Fuck university administration for not divesting from this genocide. Fuck Joe Biden for actively supporting this genocide. And fuck the police.

A Reminder

Palestine is not over. Palestine is not dead. Gaza, the West Bank, the entire region between the river and the sea, and the various countries across the world where refugees have fled to, house a surviving people and surviving culture. Palestine is not dead, and WILL NOT die.

I'm seeing a lot of very valid despair online, but if you're someone like me, living a privileged life in a Western country NOT under active bombardment, and which is actually COMPLICIT to some degree in that bombardment: we don't get to give up. Not now, not ever.

You can still get involved in protests or direct actions (e.g. blocking supply), you can still donate eSims or fund UNRWA on your government's behalf, you can still hassle the crap out of your local MP. No, it won't roll back the harm that's already been committed, but all of those things are STILL WORTH DOING. PEOPLE ARE STILL ALIVE OVER THERE. PALESTINE IS STILL WORTH SAVING.

If you've bothered to read this far, you're probably already aware of what's going on over there right now. If not, check out Al Jazeera's fantastic coverage. But also remember that Palestine, and Palestinian culture, is more than just death and despair. Examples below:

Long live Palestine, from the river to the sea.

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pistachiophobia

8 months ago

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pistachiophobia

2 years ago

A Picnic Under the Stars

are we a happy ending or a tragedy?

Stars shone as sugar split over black marble, glistening what was left of the sun as twilight captured the majestic sky, turning into a brilliant blend of purple and orange. The once bustling city of Manhattan became deserted at night. All the gates shut, and the tiny, beige townhouses were lit inside. Families danced around the table, singing nursery rhymes you could hear from miles away.

She loved Manhattan, she told herself. She loved it because it was the home she never thought she needed. Sure, it was bustling and hustling during the day, but at night, it was beautiful. She didn’t like Manhattan at first, mainly because of the busyness vibe it gives off. At night, everything was possible.

She ran as fast as her two feet can carry her, her chestnut hair falling behind her, dancing in the cold, frosty air. Jumping over a black, rusted gate, she started to climb a wall covered with thick thorns, decorated with red and pink roses. To her surprise, she wasn’t alone.

Both of them were equally startled. “What the hell? Who are you?” She said, troubled.

“What do you mean, who am I? Who are you?” He gasped with a feeble voice.

“I come here to see the stars at night.” She responds. “You?”

“Same here. It gets boring during the day.”

She sits down next to him, getting a good glimpse of his jet-black hair, his sharp jawline, the way his honey skin glows in the dark, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. They sit there for a good while, casually admiring the stars.

“Do you wanna…have a picnic?” She breaks the silence. He falls silent for a moment, and for a moment, she think she’s made a mistake.

“Never mind, it was a stu-”

“Let’s do it.”

She sat there, mouth agape as he took a small blanket from his white tote bag full of college books and tons of snacks he tossed onto the blanket. She snorted as he handed her a Twix bar and some marshmallows. For a moment, she felt butterflies in her stomach, her cheeks deepening to a light shade of rosy pink.

“There.” He points to a constellation. “That’s Libra, and over there. That’s Cancer.”

“I don’t know much about astrology.”

“You don’t need to.” He assured her. “In the sky, you can see their stories.”

“Wow.” She sighed in awe. Those constellations were breathtaking. She’ll admit it, she’s not very good at spotting constellations, but she can find stars. Isn’t that enough?

For the first time, she found someone who understands what it feels like to be confined. To have limited freedom and control, to erase personalities not desired. She isn’t alone anymore.

“Do you .....wanna hang out sometime?” He asked, a little flustered.

“Sure, I’d like that.”