DAT Rally

Protesters at sit-in build sense of community in Crouse-Hinds

It was 11:30 p.m. and for THE General Body protesters, that meant it was time for “human stuff.”

Surrounding them is an administration that has said it’s time for them to leave Crouse-Hinds Hall, a student body that has a wavering and ever-tenuous support for their cause and a media that has grown fascinated  with their every move.

But amid the chaos and the controversy that engulfs its actions and its purpose, THE General Body still likes to find time for “human stuff” every night.

Tuesday marks the 15th day of the protest and the beginning of its third full week since a group of protesters marched to the administration building and refused to leave until a 43-page list of demands were met. It’s been a grueling day-to-day process that, when negotiations aren’t taking place, follows a script similar to the one that occurred on Thursday night.

For the 25 or so students protesting the administration that stayed the night, that meant gathering in a circle in the lobby of Crouse-Hinds Hall and singing. Not everyone wanted to participate, but then again, not everyone wanted to be sleeping on a hard brick floor. So, they all came together and everyone sang.



First, Mary Rose Go, a program assistant in the College of Arts and Sciences, belted out “Quando M’en Vo,” an opera song that had the rest of the protesters voraciously snapping at its conclusion. Afterward, they all sang “Stand By Me” by Ben E. King and “Seasons of Love” from the musical “Rent.”

“I don’t mind spending my time here because I know it’s going to some place absolutely necessary,” protester Ella Mendonsa said.

Mendonsa, a senior political science and public policy dual major, said it’s hard to not have access to a shower, to sleep on the floor of an academic building and to be willing to continue that sacrifice during Thanksgiving Break.

Yet neither she nor most of the other protesters have showed signs of wavering.

Lining the walls of the administration building were blankets, pillows and sleeping bags. Adjacent to the stairway were two tables covered by different trays of food and snacks. As soon as one was finished, someone came to replace it with more. The cubbies that just weeks before were used for study had become makeshift bedrooms, with protesters trying to sleep with blankets covering their entire body.

At 8:15 p.m., once all the classes ended and everyone left their offices, Colton Jones a senior psychology major and an organizer of THE General Body, gathered everyone for a meeting to go over the day.

The negotiations committee read an email it received from Dean of Student Affairs Rebecca Reed Kantrowitz. It told them the administration will now focus its attention on “the other 21,000 students” on campus. The group became angered, and pointed out that THE General Body’s purpose is to serve those students as well.

“That’s bullsh*t,” Jones said.

The group of protesters sleeping over then went into small lecture hall near the entrance of Crouse-Hinds for a secret meeting to discuss the next day’s schedule. As one protester entered the room, she whispered the group’s “You can’t stop the revolution” chant under her breath.

The meeting started with the protesters making sure they were not at risk of being compromised. The administration and Department of Public Safety have tried to stop them at every turn, they said. One girl asked Jones what he’d do if someone walked in and looked at the projector screen and saw his agenda. Jones then snatched away the paper, mimicking his plan of action, as the rest of the protesters snapped at his quick reflexes.

The meeting lasted for two hours, ending only because DPS wouldn’t let them stay past 11 p.m. After they finished the meeting, ate dinner and sang, it was around 12:15 a.m. and time to sleep. One of the protesters asked Joe Shanley, the on-duty DPS officer that night, to turn the lights out.

Some of the protesters rolled out yoga mats and sleeping bags to avoid sleeping on the uncomfortable hard brick floor. Others retired to the cubbies connected to the stairway to the second floor. Nick Holzthum, a junior information management and technology major, got into bed by taking the armrests off his wheelchair and slowly lowering himself on to a mattress. He is the only protester who has been there every single night.

Though the quiet skewed the reality of the situation, sleeping was far from easy. Some lights remained on throughout the night, including the plastic candles that line the staircase and have an automated flicker. The cold creeped in as the temperature dropped outside. DPS officers have even been accused of taking pictures of the protesters while they sleep.

When the sun rose at 6:45 a.m., it went straight through the glass windows. And when the doors opened at 7 a.m., administrators and professors started to come in and step over the protesters as they got their last minutes of sleep.

The protesters have made a home out of a place that isn’t one. And while they all stand by the fact that doing so was a last resort, it’s become a haven for aligning beliefs and a representation for the change that they’re demanding.

“They’re wrong for waiting us out, because we’re right,” said protester Ben Kuebrich, a doctoral candidate in the College of Arts and Sciences. “And we have to show people why we’re right.”





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