Encampment

Tuesday night, with mist creeping through Isla Vista and an incomplete essay open before me, I began to doubt my all juice diet. With my back already aching, I wondered how long I could last drinking only water.

Today, none of that seemed to matter. Students, faculty, and the community assembled above Storke Plaza. Some of the strongest, most compassionate individuals I have ever met spoke their minds to the cheering crowd through a sky-raised megaphone. A statement of solidarity was read. I cried, and I saw others crying, and we took comfort in one another.

Then we marched, chanting, and delivered our demand. We set up our encampment, our community, on the grass outside Cheadle Hall, by the bushes with the wild bunnies.

We've moved in and we're serious and we're hungry. Our provisions will last us well through next week. We aren't moving. My back is still aching but it doesn't worry me. The outpour of support will sustain us; the hunger strike is already a victory. Our message is spreading over everyone, like the mist last night in IV.