Red Room Where the Writers Are

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Until September 24, 2009, I hadn't put on an armband since the spring of 1970 when I was a junior in high school. On April 30, 1970, President Richard Nixon announced the invasion of Cambodia, and on May 4 Allison Krause, Jeffrey Miller, Sandra Scheuer, and William Schroeder-four students at Kent State-were shot and killed by members of the Ohio National Guard. In their memory and to protest the invasion of Cambodia, I sat on the floor of my mother's tiny sewing room, tearing lengths of black cloth for armbands to distribute to demonstrators who were gathering on the steps of the Chaves County Courthouse in Roswell, New Mexico.

As I wrapped the red cloth around my arm this past Thursday morning, I hesitated. Did protesting UC Budget cuts have the gravitas of the demonstrations against the invasion of Cambodia, the deaths of the students at Kent State, the deaths of thousands of Americans, Vietnamese, Cambodians and Laotians? The easy answer is no: they are not really comparable. 

But I have taught writing at UC Berkeley for over 25 years. I am the recipient of a Distinguished Teaching Award. I care about my job, my students, and the people I work with. This is not a matter of life or death. But it is a matter of the health and growth of a system that educates Californians as well as thousands of students from other states and countries.

And that's important.

So to show my solidarity with the various groups-students, faculty, staff, and union members-attending the rally, I put on the red armband and joined other UC Berkeley faculty members at the designated gathering spot in front of Wheeler Hall. Together we walked to Sproul Plaza.

The rally, as has been reported in the news, was large-5,000 estimated at UC Berkeley-inspiring and invigorating. I had been tweeting all week about #ucwalkout, and would continue to do so when I got home. While reading other Walkout tweets, I came across Deborah Solomon's New York Times interview with Mark Yudof in which, to my shock and dismay, he says that "being president of the University of California is like being manager of a cemetery: there are many people under you, but no one is listening." He adds, "I listen to them."

Mr. Yudof might want to listen more carefully to himself. Does he really want to compare the UC system to a cemetery? Thousands of graves covering the state of California, tombstones engraved with the names of the 10 campuses and those who people them-faculty, staff, and students. My name and the name of my son could be inscribed on two of them. I don't know who Mr. Yudof listens to, but I want to urge him to listen to the voices of the living: those who spoke loudly and clearly on Thursday. We will continue to speak.

UC is not a cemetery, Mr. Yudof. Don't turn it into one.

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