When we saw her sit down and her tears begin, we dropped to our knees in front of her and joined hands forming a circle with to share and acknowledge her sorrow. What a gift to share our collective grief with this stranger-friend for a moment.
We stood speechless as we scrolled through the images that she had sent without captions. Utter misery inflicted on desperate people at our Southern border. How in God’s name are we allowing this?
His voice broke most notably when he recounted his 10-year-old daughter suggesting that their family “pray for the woman.” His tears at that moment are no coincidence. They are evidence of guilt, a guilt that he does not believe he can confess, take responsibility for, and atone for. Such a situation is ripe for the anguish and rage we saw on display.
And then I told him what twenty-something me took away from watching Anita Hill, although I could not have articulated it then.
For our campus, this moment is a reckoning, a time to face the difficult realities that echo through our buildings, bubble up on our quadrangles, and that have remained hidden for far too long.
How long do we have to listen to our leaders defend the indefensible practice of separating children from their parents on our southern border? How