The Emerson College we once knew is dead. It was dying long before April 25, but that morning was the coup de grâce. The atmosphere of the college is now almost unrecognizable.
Walking through the alley now, the air is heavy, reverent. Our buildings and hallways are remarkably, and enforced by the code of conduct, empty and colorless.
Welcome back to art school.
It’s clear that in recent years, Emerson has followed other institutions’ suit by projecting illusions of corporate inclusivity that painted the college as a haven for marginalized individuals.
The truth is observable in Emerson’s policies: this haven is for the white, wealthy, and brand-friendly queerness. Low-income, first-generation students are there to work campus jobs to afford monthly tuition payments, Black and Brown students are photo ops, and radical queer people showing solidarity are arrested. Make no mistake, Emerson is no longer a college; it’s a business. And militant repression is great for investors.
Emerson’s recent policy changes are devastating blows to the sanctity of learning and set a dangerous precedent for education. Effectively banning acts of civil disobedience like protesting, fliering, and regulating self-expression is the antithesis of higher education. And despite the call for safety and mutual respect on campus, these policies are not apolitical.
A majority of the students at the encampment were low-income, first-generation, students of color, women, and/or queer. Potentially criminalizing a distinct stance held by the most vulnerable members of your community is Emerson directly turning its back on progressivism.
The limits regarding protesting are laughable and naively assume that any students interested in protesting the institution would comply with those regulations. It’s obvious that the neutral stance on “complex geopolitical issues” the college is taking is hostile towards the students. The “no standing”, anti-loitering signs on every single entrance door on campus that remain from the days following the raid of the encampment remind us of this hostility. Complex geopolitical issues the board will not take stances on, but make no mistake, Emerson will milk Pride Month for all its worth.
The phrase “complex geopolitical issues” is a cop-out for those who are uninvolved and unconcerned about issues beyond their immediate circles. Racism is a complex geopolitical issue. LGBTQ rights are a complex geopolitical issue. Misogyny is a geopolitical issue.
The only difference, however, is that we’ve reached an era of retrospection for movements opposing identity-based violence. Retroactively, we can agree the riots and protests and miscellaneous acts of civil disobedience were necessary to gain political traction.
Because we are experiencing this student movement as it happens, and conversely experiencing the opposition to it, a business like Emerson cannot find solace in the pockets of a split demographic. Neutrality is the ideal business model.
As an art school, in theory, Emerson should welcome the eclectic minds that make up the student body and welcome their expression, be it through their art or their activism. New policies that institute pre-registered protest zones are too neat to accomplish anything. It gives the illusion that the higher-ups are listening to us, without all of the mess and paperwork of changing. If it doesn’t make them money, it’s a fruitless endeavor.
The college also aims to regulate our art by prohibiting student organizations from taking political stances after dozens expressed solidarity with Palestine and denounced the arrests.
This stance is intended to reduce those specific expressions of solidarity, but its verbiage implies that statements about inclusivity (which are inherently political) are also prohibited. The students that are making the most compelling art at Emerson are also the most marginalized individuals. Either our desire to create art was beaten out of us post-encampment, or it’s restricted.
I expect the President and Board of a liberal arts college to understand the political nature of art, and how it is essential for good art to be political. We don’t need Emerson to take a stance. As students, we expect our school to prepare us to enter the world and workforce; places where we will encounter posters, stickers, and flags that mean things we disagree with. This is our right. How we handle it is determined by us, but how can we expect to engage in discourse beyond Emerson when it’s so blatantly penalized within the Emerson microcosm?
And, in truth, if the goal is authentic political neutrality as an educational entity, wouldn’t divesting funds with political associations be a good start? Wouldn’t removing these dystopian regulations on speech that criminalize your prize-winning-smile-pamphlet students get enrollment back up? Wouldn’t budgeting to keep programs and faculty on payroll instead of cutting them and expanding organizations explicitly associated with one side of the coin make your returning students happy?
I want to take classes I enjoy again with faculty I create valuable relationships with. I want to decorate my door however I want to instead of being met with transparently propagandist Emerson-themed floors. I want my money to pay for my education, not for potentially undisclosed police states. I want to know I can express my First Amendment right to assemble without being met with riot gear.
I have not been the same since that morning. Emerson College, in conjunction with Mayor Michelle Wu of Boston and Mass. State Troopers, inflicted a terror on us that has not left. I will never not see the blood on the bricks. I will never stop hearing the screaming. We simply have to use this fear to make our demands heard. This is a movement that exists simultaneously with terror, love, solidarity, rage, empathy, grief, and beyond. You cannot kill this movement.