During the strike, I found the campus teeming with life. I stood at the crossroads of a daunting invitation and a compelling enthusiasm as the picket line grew strong with words, music, and power. As someone who has not experienced a strike before, I did not know how to react. Hilariously, I am still doubtful of the validity of my response. There were always whispers of solidarity around me, but that was all they could be. Whispers. You supported someone with a hand on their shoulder, or with a hopeful glance in their direction. Yet, there is such inspiration in all that unsettles us. There is such strength. It lives not in the visibility or audibility of the action, but in the emotions, the drive, the confidentiality and endurance of it all. I like to believe we will take this invitation, as daunting as it may be, and turn those whispers into a speech. Or a song. Or a legacy.
The university can be a place where walls are broken down. Where dreams surpass the boundaries of an institution. Where potential is measured not by material but by possibilities. Where access is not inhibited by quantifiable possessions. Where rights are upheld not merely by concept but by action. Where catchy slogans are more than just marketing copies. Where people are not commodities. Where community is prioritised beyond performance. The university can be a place, but it can also be more than that.