Graduation, Protest, and the Politics We Can’t Ignore
On a sunny day in June 2024, I walked to UC Santa Barbara’s Commencement Green with a canvas banner stuffed underneath my dress. The material was itchy and the banner itself, not safety-pinned properly, threatened to become visible below my hem. Spirits were nonetheless high as a small group of graduates, adorned with clandestine flags, made our way to the pre-commencement holding area.
This was our last-ditch effort to stage a political demonstration during commencement. We were a cohort of graduating students, drawing mostly from UCSB Students for Justice in Palestine, UC Divest Coalition at UCSB, and Jewish Voice for Peace at UCSB, stubbornly responding the the University’s repeated attempts to clamp down on dissent and preempt any potential disruptions to its carefully curated proceedings. In the wake of UC-wide protests, marked by the creation of several encampments in solidarity with Gaza (almost all of which were forcibly dismantled by law enforcement), a barrage of new rules had been implemented. Guest numbers were capped, banners and signs prohibited, and all graduating students would be subjected to a pat-down prior to entering the holding space.
While never explicitly spelled out by administration, the reason for these unprecedented regulations, set against the backdrop of sweeping campus unrest, was clear: to prevent any sort of political activity. Even so, we were able to pull off the protest. When it came time to retrieve our diplomas, we walked across the stage in a row, each unveiling our makeshift signs. Mine, hastily spray-painted the night before, read “Let Gaza Live” in bold, black letters. Behind me, a friend raised her own sign: “We Honor Gaza’s Class of 2024.” And so on.
While well-received by some, these nationwide pro-Palestine graduation protests also attracted swift and predictable backlash. My mom, for example, didn’t speak to me for two weeks, stating that I had “ruined her photos with my political paraphernalia.” Online, Reddit threats lamented that “everything is political these days” and the accomplishment of graduates had been dampened by these “inappropriate” displays of solidarity.
Across the Internet, this sentiment reigns supreme in coverage and commentary. As journalist Erin Kelly wrote for The Carolina Review in 2024, “Disrupting graduations for your political cause is a selfish act.” She continues, “free speech is one of the most important foundational freedoms that we enjoy as Americans, but like everything else, there is a time and a place.”
Perhaps unsurprisingly, I disagree with Kelly’s argument. Even if we accept that politics should be confined to the “correct” time and place, it seems evident that protesting a university’s complicity in genocide at the university’s own commencement, is, in fact, profoundly timely. Speaking from my own experience at UC Santa Barbara, administration is largely inaccessible and unwilling to engage in meaningful dialogue, especially on issues that threaten the university’s financial interests. Commencement is one of a few rare moments of visibility and an opportunity to directly challenge leadership and express dissatisfaction.
Beyond strategy, there’s something poetic– timely, even– about choosing commencement as a moment for protest. In doing so, we draw on the lessons we’ve learned in the classroom to hold the university accountable and demand that it live up to its own stated values.
This debate about the “appropriateness” of political expression extends beyond commencement ceremonies. The sentiment articulated by Kelly, that “politics have a time and place,” is one that I fundamentally reject. By confining political discussion and protest to a narrow set of institutionally sanctioned spaces, this framework hugely limits the visibility and impact of dissenting voices. When political expression is expected only in specific, controlled forums, these conversations become isolated from everyday spaces. This segregation effectively quells broader dialogue, making it easier for the status quo to persist unchallenged.
Besides, it is ridiculous to police when and where politics are deemed acceptable. Politics is omnipresent, coloring every sphere of society and shaping how we exist in the world. This is not to suggest that we should be bogged down by the weight of it all, paralyzed by the “politicality” of every small action. However, we must recognize that the system we inhabit is inherently political and our choices, molded by our position within that system, inevitably bear political significance.
Campaigning for a cause, engaging in a boycott, or walking across the graduation stage with a “Free Palestine” banner does not “politicize” the moment– the moment is already deeply political. Graduation itself is fundamentally political, as not everyone has the chance to attend college due to systemic barriers that deny many people access to higher education. Choosing to disengage, far from being apolitical, is itself a political decision, one often rooted in privilege and more readily available to those who benefit from the prevailing socio-political hierarchy.
It is not the protestors who are harmful, but our existing culture, which enables and normalizes profound inequality, even genocide. To confront this, a vocal and unwavering countermovement is essential. Only by refusing to be silent can we begin to dismantle systems of oppression and work toward a more equitable world. College campuses have long been battlegrounds for social transformation, with student movements leading some of the most powerful challenges to injustice. In this tradition, it is vital that we foster student activism– rather than shame or suppress it– if we are truly committed to cultivating lasting social change.