Photo by Rainer Lee/OutWrite
Content warning: settler colonialism, genocide, police brutality, violence, xenophobia, anti-Semitism
In 1948, Israel began its ongoing settler colonial occupation of Palestine. Since October 7, 2023, Israel has murdered 37,746 Palestinian people in its active genocide. This number does not include the over 10,000 missing Palestinians and continues to rise daily.
However, the Israeli apartheid, occupation, and genocide in Palestine, like all settler colonial and imperial projects, has not occurred without resistance. For the last 76 years, the Palestinian people and their allies across the globe have fought against Israel’s violent occupation.
Over the last nine months, UCLA students have mobilized en masse to protest the Israeli apartheid, occupation, and genocide in Palestine. Pro-Palestine protestors have organized rallies, teach-ins, and three Palestine Solidarity Encampments as of this article’s publication date.
During this critical moment in the fight for Palestinian liberation, I hope to record pro-Palestine UCLA students’ experiences and motivations. I compiled statements from five pro-Palestine students, including myself, who have attended pro-Palestine political actions over the past school year.
I chose to publish the majority of the statements semi-anonymously for safety reasons. In this article, we speak about the fight for divestment and an end to genocide, the trauma of being attacked by cops, our disappointment in and anger towards the university, the power of the people, and our ideas for furthering the movement.
What pro-Palestine political actions have you attended? What was your experience like?
C: I was in the encampment during the night of the police raid and have attended a few of the teach-ins and rallies that have happened since then. I don’t think I’m expressing an unpopular sentiment in admitting that the police raid was as traumatizing as it was eye-opening and radicalizing. In the face of the violent police force that has been mobilized against you to defend higher institutions of power, you realize that the only defense you have is the strength of a community united under our denouncement of Zionist instruments.
Rainer Lee: I’ve been present at multiple pro-Palestine protests and teach-ins over the past academic school year. My most memorable experiences would be May 1, the night of the police raids on the Palestine Solidarity Encampment, and the teach-ins, hosted by the People’s University for a Liberated Palestine, in the weeks following. On May 1, my friends and I were reporting on the encampment via the OutWrite Instagram. We were outside the encampment for around eight hours from 6 p.m. until 2 a.m. when the police began hurling tear gas and flashbangs at the pro-Palestine protestors by the flagpole in Royce Quad. After watching the Zionist attacks on April 30 and due to a general understanding of the police as a violent institution that upholds the U.S. empire, I knew the police would attack the protestors, but it was an entirely different experience to witness the violence firsthand. May 1 cemented my belief that UCLA is deeply complicit in the unjust systems that enable the weaponization of militarized police against students exercising their right to free speech and the Israeli genocide and colonization of Palestine.
E.B.: I mostly attended walk-outs, as well as taking part in the encampment while it was present.
J: I’ve attended a handful of events. The first was a rally organized by Students for Socialism back in October, which I know was controversial because no UC Divest organizations were consulted [nor did they] sign onto the event — something like that. Even despite that, it was powerful seeing people come out in support. There was a Palestinian speaker from Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP) at Irvine Valley College. Her speech moved me. I started crying. And it made sense why I was crying. She was speaking about the experiences of Palestinians under Israeli occupation and then moved on to the experiences of Palestinian college students at that point in the genocide. I imagined myself in their shoes as much as I could — something so simple. It was silly because, on that particular day, Turning Point USA also had that event where they brought out a right-wing personality to “talk to students” for content — all of the volunteers wore orange shirts. There was also a small group of anti-protestors, which caught my attention. I began to think about how anti-Palestine people — Zionists, right-wing extremists, other hecklers, etc. — understood the issue more broadly, not from a both-sideism perspective but from a critical understanding of the broader context that surrounds resistance against Palestinian liberation in America.
It was a while until I would get involved in other actions. I think this is a liability to even include because of the ongoing investigations, but I was part of setting up the initial encampment. The encampment was beautiful. I think there are some things that we don’t believe until we see [them], and the encampment was that for me. To see people come together, seeing people build up the encampment piece by piece into what it was with just community support and wood pallets and folding tables and E-Z UPs and blankets and food, donations, art: a space for education and community and communion by the people for the people. There was one day — it was the day that the Zionists attacked the encampment — when I didn’t have a mask, so I just stood outside, observing. There were really aggressive counter-protestors and I, again, began to think. I know I’m certainly biased, but I was trying to understand how people — as in the counter-protestors — could so violently resist a movement based on the collective good for all people.
I was asleep when the encampment was attacked. A friend from another UC called me and woke me up to see if I was alright. As the posts from inside the encampment came out with their needs, I made two supply runs. Approaching the encampment from the Tongva Steps, hearing the chaos on the other side was wild. It was tense on the other side. At a certain point, there was a Zionist who was trying to ascend and was harassing people who were bringing supplies to the encampment. People from the bottom of the steps started shouting at everyone on the steps to alert us that there was someone being aggressive, and people mobilized to urge him away. Again, seeing the principles of the movement and the chants acted out — “we protect us” — was powerful.
The day that the encampment was swept, I was there for the initial action at 6 p.m. at the steps and again around 10 p.m. in anticipation of the sweep. This was another point at which something that was only theoretical to me became real — my privilege becomes apparent in this. Witnessing the violence — the onslaught of bangs and flashes, the pops of the police firing non-lethals into the encampment, watching from whichever Instagram live was up to see what was happening on the inside, seeing our peers in the fucking zip-tie handcuffs, the cops throwing planks of wood and umbrellas — all behind a wall of riot police — feet shoulder-width apart, batons splayed, guns holstered — really allowed me to understand how much this meant to the entities that we have been fighting against. I stayed until 6 a.m., anticipating any sort of action for de-arrest. But we were unsuccessful. It was from this failure that I learned how fragile a protest can be. People were simply unaware of what to do next as we saw the encampment swept, and afraid now that there were no sort of centralized figures telling everyone what to do.
I took that with me at the next actions I attended. During the second encampment, there was a transitionary period after the sweep and before we moved to Murphy [Hall]. Everyone was again uncertain, but an SJP organizer started telling people that we were moving to Murphy. And it was easy to just shout out to everyone, this is what we’re going to do next. I started some chants as we started marching from Kerckhoff to Murphy because I thought that it was particularly important to inspire a sense of confidence during the transition — that people would figure wherever the chanting was [is] the right way to go.
E.C.: I went inside the first encampment midday on the Friday before it was raided, and I was outside the encampment in the groups of protesters the night of the raid. The first time I went inside the encampment, I was bringing a couple of blankets to donate. Honestly, I was kind of nervous about the whole thing, so I was planning on dropping off my donations and dipping, but I ended up running into a friend and we went inside and hung out there for a while. It was my first time looking around the encampment, and I was pleasantly surprised at every turn. It was well-organized and full of people, and the energy and sense of community were palpable. When I got there, they were leading an Islamic prayer, and other protesters were gathered around them with their arms linked to give them the privacy they deserved while worshiping. It was incredibly moving to see all kinds of people, most of whom were my peers, coming together to protect and care for each other. On the other hand, there were counter-protesters (most of whom did not look at all like college students for a number of reasons) on the outside of the encampment yelling horrible things at the people inside the encampment through megaphones and speakers. They told us to go back to our countries and that America doesn’t want us. For a while, they targeted Jewish pro-Palestine protesters, trying to convince them that they were being used and manipulated. When that failed, they screamed at them that they weren’t real Jews and would go to hell. They screamed that the people in Gaza deserved what they were getting and that God had cursed them as he had cursed Egypt. I felt safe within the encampment, thankfully, but their vitriol was disappointing. I knew such hate existed in this world, but it was truly disappointing to hear it spoken on the campus that I love so much.
Disappointment was going to be the theme from then on, though. That Tuesday night, I was supposed to be doing my homework and playing video games with my friends, but instead I was glued to several different phones and laptops as we watched the horrific assault on the encampment. We watched for hours as people were dragged, beaten, and assaulted with fireworks and bear mace. I truly believed the counter-protesters were going to kill someone that night. When the encampment called for supplies around midnight, we ran saline, clothes, and first aid to them. The supplies drop-off was on the far side of the encampment from where the assault was occurring, but the idea of such violence being so close was unreal, to be honest. The whole night felt unreal. Part of me kept hoping that when the police showed up, they would at least put themselves between the two sides if just to stop the violence. Sure, ACAB [All Cops Are Bastards], but some part of me held on to hope that our university would protect us. I was, of course, wrong. They just stood there and watched. It kind of felt like the night of the 2016 election. I was too young to even fully understand that election, but it was that same kind of world-rocking disillusionment with systems that I once held in high regard. In the days after, I would talk to people about it, and every time I would say, “I mean, I knew that the university didn’t care about us, but man… they really don’t care about us.” That night, to me, was the university telling us that they do not give a shit if we live or die.
The night after, we went to the protests outside the encampment after hearing rumors of them clearing it that evening. First, we were told 6 p.m., then something like 11 [p.m.], then later and later and later until it was the early hours of the morning and we were still there. Maybe there were extenuating circumstances, but I think they were trying to wait us out, hoping our convictions were so weak that we would all go home when we got tired. Joke’s on them. We watched more and more police [gather], using our university buildings as bases, which felt blasphemous, in a way. I remember looking around at all the police in their riot gear and I just felt so bitter because where were they before? Where were they when we watched our fellow students be dragged into crowds and kicked and beaten by people who didn’t even go to our university? How dare they stand in front of us like we’re the enemy when they have failed us over and over and over and over?
Anyway, towards the end, we could tell that they were getting ready to clear us all out. I wouldn’t be able to tell you how long it took, but for a while, we lived in sickening suspense watching prison buses roll in and more and more riot police line up around us. For a moment, I was terrified that they were going to box us in. They didn’t, thankfully, so when I first heard a loud bang and caught the slightest glimpse of an unknown gas, I was gone. We sprinted down the streets that are usually our paths to lectures with the sound of gunfire and screaming nipping at our heels. I’ve never felt fear like that in my entire life — a testament to my privilege and their cruelty. We reached our agreed-upon meeting spot and hunkered down to wait until we could go home safely. Over the next hour or two, we contacted everyone we knew, some of whom were out of danger and others who were deep in it. In the end, everyone was safe, but that concern and fear is something I’ll never forget. There was something powerful about it, though — the way we were all checking in on each other and making sure our friends and loved ones were safe. In the aftermath of the police assault, it was a reminder that we all stood together.
What motivates you to attend actions? In other words, what do you and others like you seek to accomplish?
Rainer: I didn’t know that Israel was a settler-colonial and apartheid state until this fall quarter. I attended the teach-in hosted by professors like Saree Makdisi where I learned about the 76-year-long Palestinian struggle for liberation against Israeli settler colonization. Our goal as protestors is to first fight for Palestinian liberation from genocide and see an end to Israel as a state. As one of the chants goes, “no peace on stolen land.” In order to ensure Palestine is free, those of us at UCLA are specifically interested in pressuring the university into divesting from Israel and speaking out for a free Palestine. Other demands include amnesty for pro-Palestine protestors who were arrested and [abolishing] police — as a violent, white supremacist tool of the State — [on] our campuses. Police in the U.S. do not increase citizen safety, and — as demonstrated by their actions at UCLA over the decades and in many other contexts — suppress free speech and perpetuate violence.
C: The broader goal is to let the UC know that its student and faculty bodies will not stand for [the] UC’s complicity and support for the genocide in Gaza. By attending teach-ins and other community events, we educate ourselves on the history of this struggle and those like it. Personally, these actions and teach-ins have been a source of hope to continue fighting — seeing unexpected familiar faces at these events helps you realize the scale of solidarity in this movement.
E.B.: Mostly, I went to pressure administration to listen. I know that [the] number, volume, and disruptive[ness of] actions are what make them so successful, and I deeply want them to succeed. I want UCLA to divest from weapons manufacturing companies. I want them to actually protect their students. I want them to actually support free speech and the right to protest even when it isn’t convenient for them.
But also, I went to these demonstrations to show solidarity with the people who are concretely affected by this issue — whether they have Palestinian heritage themselves, or are Arab or Muslim and feel the effects of persecution against people like them. I want to show that, even if dominant power structures are not behind them, students of UCLA and the people of the world are behind them, and will defend them.
Last, but certainly not least, I attend actions to learn. These events are really good at highlighting Palestinian voices first and foremost, and they also highlight people who are putting a lot on the line to speak up, like the teaching assistants [who] are striking.
E.C.: I’m not as educated as I should be, so when it comes down to it, my reason for putting myself out there is that I am anti-genocide. I am for the freedom of all oppressed peoples. I believe that innocent people deserve to live. I am against the hypocrisy of our university and our government, who tout acceptance and champion minorities yet show their true colors when shit gets real. I am bitter and angry at the clear biases that our university has shown that have, in the end, led to the injury and emotional devastation of its students. I am tired of the fact that human beings’ rights to live are still in question. I want UCLA to divest the money that we give them from systems we do not support. I want the American government to stop using taxpayer dollars to support another country’s genocide. I want people to believe that Palestinians’ lives are more valuable than any political agenda. I want to stop being disappointed by the systems of power that I am trapped in.
J: I was motivated to attend whatever I could because I felt it was the best way to help — to continue to create awareness, to redistribute the resources I have to those who need it most (the people of Palestine), and to embody what it means to reject normalization. I believe that anything you can do to contribute to the project of justice you must do.
As someone who is pro-Palestine, what has your experience been like at UCLA? What are your thoughts on the university, faculty, TA, and student responses to the pro-Palestine student movement?
J: The school’s failure to negotiate with student demands in good faith is disgusting. The collective complacency and lack of action from faculty in particular is disheartening. How do you witness your students fighting for something so important and not even listen? I’m sure there are faculty members who have little to no idea what’s going on in Palestine when what’s going on on campus is unavoidable.
C: I’m pretty disappointed in the lack of faculty support [in] refusing to respect no business as usual until SJP UCLA’s demands have been met. Even at baseline, most of my professors have also not explicitly acknowledged anything about the movement besides commenting on how disruptive it’s been to their teachings.
E.C.: I definitely touched on this before, but overall I’m just fucking disappointed. I’m so disappointed. Every time I get an email from Gene Block, something in me dies. However, I am endlessly thankful for the faculty and TAs that stand with us. I spoke to Dr. Bharat Venkat at an event, and it was incredibly reassuring to hear from him that there were people with some iota of power who believed that what had happened was fundamentally wrong and could not go on. I saw a TA of mine leading chants at a protest, and she is now striking. As disappointed as I am with the university, they remind me why I loved UCLA in the first place.
Rainer: I’m very encouraged by my fellow students’ responses. Seeing so many people I know and care about at the rallies and the encampments reassured me that many of us do care and are fighting for Palestinian liberation. It can be easy to feel hopeless and isolated, especially because for their own and others’ safety, people aren’t constantly posting about their attendance at political actions online. But going out is always a good and necessary reminder that apathy is not the overwhelming reaction. Similarly, I saw many of my professors at the faculty walk-out for Palestine, and I appreciate their support. In contrast, I strongly condemn Gene Block and the university’s blatant endangerment of students and support for genocide. I hope to see UCLA divest from Israel soon.
What has been your greatest takeaway from attending actions?
E.B.: We keep us safe!
Rainer: Community is so important. We are the ones who will build the future we want to see together. I’m so grateful for the People’s University teach-ins because they have been such educational, eye-opening spaces to connect with each other outside of a high-tension, stressful environment. While protests and other actions remain incredibly necessary, moments of catharsis and healing are equally necessary to ensure our own wellbeing and the movement’s longevity.
J: There is so much power in the people. Together, we have so much more power than we know.
What methods of dealing with anger, grief, and exhaustion have helped you the most in grounding yourself to continue to show your solidarity?
J: Certainly just listening to my body and allowing myself to recognize that I am not infinite. There is always a deep sense of guilt that I’m not doing enough, that I should do more because I have so much emotional energy, but I am limited by the physical form that is my body that does get tired. I think in all of this we must remember that if there is no us, there is no fight. We have to take care of each other in the community and ourselves in whatever ways we know how to as part of this movement.
E.B.: Making sure I sleep enough, first and foremost. Also, being in community with other people and not spending too much time alone.
E.C.: Doing something has always helped. Bringing donations on that first Friday and that horrific night was kind of my way of regaining control of my life. I felt as if I was effecting change, even if in the grand scheme of things, I as an individual didn’t do much. Just being there and knowing my voice was in the world helped me cope with my feelings of helplessness and gave me an outlet for the anger and grief I had been feeling. To be honest, I don’t think I can attend events like I did before. It just makes my stress spike in ways I can’t handle, so I show my support with a little Palestinian flag and a keffiyeh. I carry the Palestinian people in my mind and in my heart and maybe it doesn’t do much, but I hope they know that we’re rooting for them.
Rainer: I’ve been talking with friends, making art, and attending teach-ins and rallies when possible. In particular, the teach-ins have been a wonderful space to remember we’re in this together and why we’re doing this. If you’re interested, I recommend checking out my article on Daniela Maldonado Salamanca’s talk on queer resistance at the People’s University. She speaks at length about the importance of collective care and channeling difficult emotions into action.
What words of encouragement or motivation do you have for our readers? What can they do to help?
E.B.: I’m being so genuine when I say that doing something almost always feels better than doing nothing. If you are able, going for a walk is going to feel better than sitting at your desk and staring at your computer because you know you should do work but can’t. Attending the walkout is going to feel better than giving yourself the excuse that you’re too busy. Inviting your friends over to dinner is going to feel better than eating alone. This isn’t a one-size-fits-all solution, but it’s something I’ve realized through trying to be better.
Rainer: We will win. As Professor Robin D. G. Kelley said to us at his teach-in, it’s not a matter of if we will win but when. Student movements have pressured UCLA into divesting from private prisons and [the] South African apartheid in the past, so we will pressure UCLA into divesting from Israel in the present. I know that Palestine will be free very soon, and I’m very honored to be standing up alongside my fellow protestors here and across the globe.
C: Because summer is approaching and many students will be leaving the UCLA campus, I ask you to keep in mind how lucky we are to have places to return to and how the UC will not cease its support for Israel in the meantime. I’d recommend that you get in touch with your politically aligned friends to keep each other in the loop about local actions and ways to educate yourselves over summer.
J: Do anything that you can. Know that there are generations of people before you and after you, and a huge community around you, who live through you and support you in this fight. In our lifetime.
For more information about pro-Palestine actions at UCLA, follow UC Divest and Students for Justice in Palestine at UCLA on Instagram. Consider following SJP at UCLA’s backup account as well. For more information about the Israeli settler colonization of Palestine, explore resources like Decolonize Palestine.
Credits:
Author: Rainer Lee (He/Him)
Artist: Rainer Lee (He/Him)
Copy Editors: Niki S. (She/Her), Gracie Bitting (She/Her)