Community Voice: From Cicero to Campus: Students Occupy University Meadow for Gaza
On the right, a line of riot police faces protesters holding Palestinian flags near tents, mirroring the police presence in Cicero (left) and at Northwestern. Illustration by Ayla Mortado
By Isabel Cruz and Mateo Herrera
Editor’s note: For the safety and security of our journalists, pseudonyms have been used in place of their real names to protect them from potential retaliation. Transparency and accuracy remain central to our reporting.
The piercing sounds of rotating helicopters in the sky jolted me out of bed. In the distance, car honks and chants filled my room as I prepared for class. I woke up to dozens of texts, e-mails and Instagram notifications.
April 25, 2024, marked day one of the five-day pro-Palestine occupation at our university’s meadow, the center of campus and only a block away from my dormitory. Our school’s Divestment Coalition began the pro-Palestine encampment to pressure University officials to divest from companies profiting from Israel’s war in Gaza.
We were overwhelmed with information. A video showing University Police trying to dismantle a group of faculty protecting student protestors, a professor canceling a morning meeting because they may be needed to help raise bail and an endless sea of reporters and their cameras all pointed toward us.
We closely watched protests at Columbia University and UCLA becoming violent the week prior as dozens of students were met with heavy police presence at UT-Austin. In the back of my mind, I saw no future where this didn’t end with my friends and I in handcuffs.
Living in Cicero, the police are all too familiar. Their constant hovering at every corner and town events instilled a sense of fear in me. When would I be the next kid searched and questioned? My parents have warned me to keep my head down, always obey the law and never step out of line. But the line was always way behind me at this point.
I could imagine my parents’ heartache if they knew what I was doing just 15 miles away in Evanston. I knew I couldn't just stand by while a larger cause demanded attention. The situation in Gaza is a tragedy I wouldn't wish on anyone. Though my actions were limited, I offered my support to a cause I deeply believed in, hoping for an end to the suffering.
“Is it for a good reason?” my mother asked me when I confessed.
Despite knowing nothing about Gaza, my mother silently allowed me to attend the encampment. My parents may need to pick me up at the county jail later tonight. Would they be upset? Sure. But for a moment, they shared with me that my participation would be a story I would tell my children one day.
Confronting our fears
Student protesters gather with peaceful smiles on the grass, sharing blankets and supplies in a safe space of solidarity and support. Illustration by Ayla Mortado
We pooled snacks together, used our dining dollars for spare meals, shared blankets and huddled next to each other to keep warm. I used my campus job to keep a rotating round portable charger, which we used to power our laptops. We joked about the exams we had tomorrow but none of us left; our fingers froze as we studied or typed away, chanting “Free Palestine” in between chapters read.
The university had made it clear they wanted us gone. University President Michael Schill emailed the student body at 9 a.m. on April 25 to inform us of a temporary update to the student code of conduct that prohibited this demonstration. But twelve hours later, the crowd grew to host hundreds of people. By 10 p.m., we heard someone make a sound on the speakerphone.
“Officials have just informed us that the police are on their way,” the voice from the speakerphone said.
They warned they would start making arrests within the next ten minutes. Fear and courage flooded every individual at the meadow. Amid the student body presidents’ conversations of "we just don’t want anyone getting shot" and the chants growing louder, no one knew what to do.
Our laptops closed as we quickly looked at each other. Some began to pack their stuff to leave, while others stayed quiet. In this moment of chaos, my legs moved for me and all I could do was frantically ask if anyone had a Sharpie.
I wrote on my arm the number of the 24/7 hotline for the Cook County Public Defender’s Office that I had on speed dial. My legs wanted to crumble beneath me, and my hands could hardly stop shaking for a moment to write legibly.
I approached strangers and friends alike, hugged them, and asked for their arms to begin writing the number. In unison, we stood, uncertain of what would happen to us. We had made history, whether we left in handcuffs or with the echoes of chants in our ears.
We left untouched that night. The police never showed up, even after countless warnings. Instead, students prepared to stay the night. Tents were set up, and people hustled with blankets, ready for the cold night ahead. Although we did not stay the night, we shared in spirit as we left behind friends who would continue fighting through the night.
The occupation at the meadow was more than a protest; it was a testament to our courage and strength in the community. As Cicero residents, staying meant going against our family expectations and cultural background; as students, it meant risking our futures. Our parents had always warned us to keep our heads down and never stand out. Now, we held our heads high in solidarity with Palestine.
For too long, we had experienced being bystanders to the issues in our community. From continuous violence to corruption in government, we had yet to have a say. The encampment, however, allowed us to stand for what we believed in. We had the opportunity to participate in something meaningful for the first time in our lives.
Action is still needed in Gaza. Cicero residents can support organizations providing aid to Gaza and spread awareness to others by educating ourselves with articles and readings. Every action is one step closer to helping those hurting for so long. You, too, can make a difference.
Isabel Cruz and Mateo Herrera are pseudonyms for first-year Northwestern students from Cicero who participated in university encampment protests against Northwestern's investments in Israel.
Our “Community Voice” section gives Cicero and Berwyn residents an opportunity to share their thoughts, experiences and opinions. Information is fact-checked for accuracy. To contribute a “Community Voice” article email info@ciceroindependiente.com.
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