Students demanding Washington University divest from Boeing are not naive. We are painfully aware that divestment requires a sustained, multi-year campaign facing undying backlash at every step. Yet, the barriers to divestment are more nuanced than the scholarships and education programs sponsored by the arms manufacturer. The ultimate barrier to divestment is not the institutional ties to Boeing, but the systematic targeting of pro-Palestine students like myself. 

The recall petition seeking to remove me from Student Union (SU) Senate, circulated after the divestment resolution that I co-authored passed, is undoubtedly an example of such targeting. The petition erroneously claims that I publicly attacked and threatened to unilaterally expel senators, when in reality, I expressed frustration with SU’s reluctance to take a stand against Philip Dybvig and consulted with Senate leadership before implementing attendance requirements after Senate failed to meet quorum. Not only are these examples inaccurately cited, but they took place months ago. Why, then, is the recall effort coming now? Is it a coincidence that for weeks no one initiated a recall, but it mysteriously appeared after the divestment resolution? Is it a coincidence that other speakers of Senate have consistently broken parliamentary procedure without facing recalls? Is it a coincidence that not too long ago, the students supporting a recall publicly advocated against my election as SU executive vice president due to my pro-Palestine beliefs? Absolutely not. 

The recall petition, anonymously submitted by, from my knowledge, three white students hiding behind a screen, paints a woman of color as creating a “culture of fear and intimidation” and “threatening.” I question who is truly threatening and intimidating. 

This recall effort is just one example of attacking pro-Palestine students. Last semester, students putting up pro-Palestine flyers were disciplined by Student Conduct for violating posting policies. It only takes looking at one bulletin board to realize these policies are violated every day, yet sanctioning students focuses on those condemning genocide. 

A Sam Fox student leaving pro-Palestine art across campus received a call from WUPD to her personal cell phone after surveillance footage identified her. When WUPD confiscated a watermelon she made, she was told “you’re not supposed to be posting pro-Palestinian art.” 

As students of color wrote the names of martyred Palestinian children, we were pointed and laughed at. Students gawked at us while we painted a pro-Palestine mural in the underpass. Every pro-Palestine protest I go to has counterprotestors recording us. 

A student published a news article with my name, profile picture, and screenshots from my personal Instagram account. A student who opposes divestment followed me around a dining hall for half an hour. Protected by anonymity, students on Sidechat called me a “loser” with “all around shittiness” who is “larping around as an underprivileged revolutionary,” while threatening to “end [my] career.” 

How long do you want me to continue giving you examples? 

As overwhelmingly students of color, pro-Palestine students are painfully aware of safety risks. We spend hours scrolling through Canary Mission, terrified by a database doxing hundreds of pro-Palestine college students. We recognize the campus climate as a microcosm of the frightening site, but we open Instagram to see a live-streamed genocide. We see pictures of martyred children and rubbled hospitals and realize this is about more than us; this is about ending a genocide. 

As opponents mock, intimidate, dox, harass, cyberbully, and stalk us, we ground ourselves in solidarity and community-building as we organize around a shared vision. Harassing students is not part of this vision. The color of the tape on our flyers and the words in our protest slogans are scrutinized. Best believe that if pro-Palestine students engaged in a fraction of the harassment we are subjected to, we would be run off this campus. 

The reasons to cut ties with Boeing are so simple that I have to believe a majority of this campus supports divestment. We should all be deeply bothered by the reality that we live and learn at an institution giving money to a company producing arms dropped in Gaza twenty minutes away from us. Unexpectedly, the very students harassing us are the students who claim that discourse on divestment threatens their safety. Despite the harassment, however, you and I share the responsibility to demand divestment. 

I never expected a Senate resolution alone to bring WashU to divest, because even with a multi-year campaign, I don’t know if WashU will ever cut ties with Boeing. But at what point does this uncertainty absolve us of the responsibility to try? To be able to look back fifty years from now and see ourselves as being on the right side of history is important. Though we are all complicit in some way, to see ourselves as not silently complicit is powerful. 

As I told Truthout in a recent interview, my actions have been, and continue to be, only about one question: what do I do in the face of genocide? I now ask, what do you do in the face of genocide? Do you silently watch us from the sidelines, or do you join us in rejecting complicity? 

At a recent decolonial teach-in I organized, Professor Keva Bui from the University of Illinois said though the genocide is manifesting abroad, we must recognize it as one that is “happening in our backyard.” This article is not a plea for you to retain me. This article is a plea for you to realize that you are complicit in genocide, and a plea to join us in disruption. Pro-Palestine students are scrutinized, but with greater numbers, we gain power. If just half the student body refuses to attend class until WashU divests, we could tip the scales in a week. 

Recall me or not, know that this is not over. Know that I will continue to disrupt and resist. Know that I will continue to ask how many innocents killed it takes to break your silence. Know that I will continue to advocate. Know that I will continue to love all and to love loudly. And know that you will keep hearing about it. I can only hope that you will choose to join me. 

Free Palestine.