When you picture a tent, what do you imagine?
If you’re an average middle-class American you might picture it on a peaceful campground somewhere, with a little fire pit in front of it. Someone might picture a temporary shelter made permanent for those experiencing homelessness, or a refugee camp in a faraway war zone. For those on DU’s campus last spring you might even picture the encampment and all the powerful activism and strife that came with it.
The encampment has made DU aware of the layers of possibilities behind the meaning of a tent, so much so that the years-long tradition of a hockey campout is getting a facelift.
Now known as Hockey Night Lights, DUPB is understandably shifting the name to distance itself from the strikingly similar visual a bunch of tents on campus for celebration shares with a bunch of tents on campus for protest. So that begs the question: besides duration and permission, what is the difference?
The privilege of celebration is powerful. No matter how peaceful a protest is, those in power being protested against will always feel defensive and threatened. The encampment posed very little physical threat, but they did pose a threat to the status quo. Tents on campus for Hockey Night Lights don’t threaten any status quo — they maintain it.
Another important visual for the privilege of celebration is the image of hundreds of DU students running through the streets lighting couches on fire and ripping out street signs after the hockey championship while being largely left alone by law enforcement. It clashes directly with what we saw all over the country during the Black Lives Matter protests, with people marching peacefully being treated like criminals.
This all sends the message that hockey provides an excuse for tents and violence, but activism doesn’t. This is not to say that celebrating a game or camping out for hockey tickets is in any way wrong; it is to point out the optics of joy.
The line between a celebration and a protest appears shockingly thin, and the only real difference is whether or not the participants are smiling.
Emotions often excuse behavior. The key here is that everyone should be able to share what they care about no matter the optics, and no matter the smiles. However, it is important to recognize when the privilege of joy is at work in the world, especially in the context of protests and global politics.
It can be easy to watch the news and see what is happening to innocent people in places like Gaza, Ukraine, Syria and Sudan that are facing the monster of total war and feel guilty for experiencing joy. Feeling guilty for doing fun things, for spending money on stuff that isn’t a necessity. That is a fair emotion; we should feel some level of sadness that we get to have moments of joy in our peaceful world while others suffer, and that should motivate us to act.
We shouldn’t deprive ourselves of joy just because it “feels wrong” when others are struggling. We should allow the privilege of joy to motivate us to donate to those causes, to volunteer with helpful organizations and do things that make a real difference. Depriving ourselves of joy and fun because of the optics of enjoying ourselves while others suffer will take happiness out of the world, so that when one group suffers everyone suffers.
Rather than feel guilty for celebrating the hockey win in the streets, we should work to make sure every protest gets the same privilege of protection and sympathy from law enforcement. Attending the Hockey Night Lights should not be a political statement, but rather an internal promise to uphold the rights of others to camp for protest as you camp for fun.
DU should not have tried to avoid the similarity in optics between the ‘Hockey Night Lights’ and the encampment, but rather allow it to remind us of difficult things, and encourage the associated activism. But as DU hasn’t encouraged activism in the past, it’s not surprising they’d seek to avoid it now, even when it stems from celebration.
The optics of joy should motivate you to spread joy to people who are suffering, and rights to people who lack them, until the right to protest is as sacred on campus as the right to celebrate.
