On Protest, Activism, and Affecting Social Change, Part 2: Dickinson College Sexual Assault Protest

On Wednesday, March 2, 2011, over 250 students occupied the administrative building of Old West at Dickinson College. It was an unprecedented moment in the history of student activism at the college; never before had the seat of administrative power been taken over by the students of the school. And I would venture to guess that, given that many of us involved were so taken aback by the high level of participation, many members of the administration were as well.

What started as an occupation turned into a sit-in and lasted for three days and three nights. We left the building Saturday morning after having reached a resolution with the administration on Friday night. For a more comprehensive nature of some of the policy discussions, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette article about the protest would be valuable. I wish, here, to discuss some of the physical, psychological and social effects of the protest on the students who participated.

The first was severe sleep deprivation, especially among the most involved students. On the first two nights of the protest, I got a combined eight hours of sleep, and I suspect that such an amount is above average. There were some criticisms floating in the rumor mill around campus that the protest served partly as an excuse for a party. This was, I assure you, utter nonsense. I know there were a number of people who did not sleep at all the first night because they were working on articulating our demands with greater precision, or writing press releases, or engaged in tactical discussions on how to proceed.

The topic of sexual assault is one that is inherently emotionally imbued, and the lack of sleep only served to exacerbate the emotional tension that already existed. Add to that the fact that the protesters were more or less confined to interacting with the same 200-300 people for 72 hours straight, and this was something of a recipe for tears, shouting, and instability. Fortunately, the tears were the most prevalent of the many signs of emotional stress, and I'm sure that many times more friendships were made than were broken by the protest. Many of the tears were even tears of joy or accomplishment

In fact, meeting new people, and having the opportunity to engage in meaningful dialogue with them was one of the most rewarding experiences of the several days. The group of people gathered at this protest was undoubtedly the most impressive collection of people with which I have ever been gathered. Put another way, I was more proud to be a part of this group than any other group I have belonged to in my life. And why not? I cannot think of another group to which I have belonged that has accomplished meaningful change.

But it was not just the change that we created that makes me proud of the group of people. Even if we had accomplished nothing, I still would have been proud to be associated with the people who were there. In addition to the many friends who participated, the people I met seemed to be disproportionately well-spoken, intelligent, and intellectually engaged. I think one of the reasons the protest was so successful is that so many inspirational people were there to inspire those of us who approached the protest with slightly more trepidation. The passion was contagious, and in any environment in which so many people are so passionate, it becomes impossible to operate with even a modicum of apathy.

Nevertheless, by Friday night, the protest was running out of energy. It seemed that some strange mixture of adrenaline, caffeine, the inspiration and passion of our colleagues, a sense of purpose, and sheer will power kept us going until Friday night, but it was clear to me that either we would have to end the protest (which we did, given that almost all of our demands were met), or devise a new strategy. The combination of lack of sleep and emotional and social tension had created an existence in the claustrophobic space of Old West that was unsustainable.

Among the many things I learned were the limits of my own body. All of those external influences listed above kept me going, but I was not functioning at full capacity and I knew it. The number of people who told me that I looked absolutely gutted must have been in the dozens. Many people, if not most, looked about like me, I think. I had pushed myself to the limit, but not so far as to be oblivious to the fact that the group as a whole had just about reached the limit.

In retrospect, the fragility of the entire enterprise stands out to me as well. How many small moments determined the outcome of the protest? It seems like an infinity. If only a few of these had happened just a little bit differently, I would hypothesize that the outcome would have been slightly different. Even several months removed from the protest, I wonder about such moments. What would have happened if....? We'll never know, of course, but in the aftermath of a successful protest, it doesn't seem disingenuous to allow oneself to step back slightly and idealize it a little bit. It was, after all, a magical few days for so many people.

Let me reiterate that I feel tremendously fortunate to have encountered such a dynamic and impressive group of people. That I was able to partake in a purposeful endeavor with them makes the experience that much more meaningful. It was a truly life-altering adventure, and so I close this post with another thank you to all the wonderful people who made it happen. Without each and every one of you, it would not have worked out as it did.

I still have much more to say on the subject of protest, activism, and affecting social change, but given the importance of this occasion to my experience, I thought it best to elucidate it in advance of pontificating more about this topic.