NEWS Hall reminded me of the impending doom of a new fall semester where the Coronavirus has forced us all to reconsider our proximity to one another. While boxing up my books I received an email from the Senior Vice President of Student Affairs where the subject line refers to “information concerning a campus situation.” I read the email and the language staring back at me was disturbing. It refers to JB “propelling” himself through a window. It paints Dannielle Brown as a menacing threat who “records without your permission if you engage in answering any questions or sharing your position in this matter.” It links to multiple releases the University has issued including a new one where Ms. Brown has now, apparently, requested a newly fourth demand in “ a substantial monetary value.” In the span of one email, a Black woman was reduced to a money-hungry and intrusive threat. In reading this email, a fear washed over me. When I collected my belongings, bags of books, random toiletries and papers, there was the fear that I could be stopped and accused of stealing at any point. It was the fear that one wrong utterance or misstep down the halls could derail my excellence. These are not fears that I should be having at an institution I have called my community for years. Was I, another Black woman, equally as threatening? That same evening I
Dannielle Brown stands outside Duquesne University. (Pittsburgh Current Photo by Kate Hagerty)
watched a press conference held by representatives of Duquesne University's legal team. At the Q&A, a reporter questioned the fourth demand. Duquesne’s legal counsel replied, “you’ll have to ask Ms. Brown about that.” And, so, on Day 44 of Dannielle Brown’s starvation for justice, I intended to do just that.
I
t was a cool day for August. As gray skies and clouds covered any chance of warmth the sun provides I entered the camp on Freedom Corner and was immediately greeted by Dannielle Brown with a hug, before I could even introduce myself. It had
been months since I last made physical contact with anyone outside of my immediate social circle and her warm embrace was everything I didn’t know I needed. Despite a weakened immune system, despite her debilitating health where she had been confined to a wheelchair days before and got so bad she had to take temporary respite in someone’s home, Dannielle Brown embraced me as if I were her own and this mother’s love felt unconditional. She held me the way she would hold a son, a son, whose life was taken far too soon. In the minutes of our warm hug she was my own mother, my own god-
mother, my sisters, my aunt, my grandmother, and every woman in my life who ever loved me. As we talked about how I too was from the DC/ Maryland area she joked that the only thing that would end her hunger strike would be some blue crabs. I promised if that day ever comes that I will make her crabcakes knowing full well she may die before I’m ever afforded that honor. More supporters arrive and she plays chess, urging me to sit beside her and get to know me better. As the previous shift leaves, she scolds them about not properly wearing masks, to be careful getting home, and how she cares because she doesn’t want to
PITTSBURGH CURRENT | AUGUST 18, 2020 | 11