I stand motionless. I do not jump. I do not move. Breathing is even questionable in this moment. I suspend my arms in the air and await the fate of the ball as it approaches the hoop. The ball doesn’t go in, and I drop my arms and let out a large "awwwwwww." A fleeting moment of grief takes over the student section. Seconds later, Duke steals the ball back and we are finally in the lead. I jump. And yell. And embrace friends nearby. I don’t know the girl to my left, but I embrace her, too. There’s nothing but happiness that fills the student section now.
These actions occurred only a few minutes into the Duke-Syracuse basketball game. It took only a few minutes inside Cameron Stadium to transform me into a mimetic body—an imitated body. But I’m not the only one imitating people around me. Height is a barrier—my barrier happened to be over 6-feet, at least it appeared to me—for many students during games, and, as a result, students aren’t able to see much of the game. Or the ball. Or the players.
Though we cannot see much of anything, the actions many of us engage in stem from peers around us. They act, and milliseconds later, we follow. It’s this unspoken rule that guides us beyond our impaired faculties in Cameron Stadium. Taller students have some difficulty too, at least that’s what I’m told. They have to negotiate their limited space to make room for their longer limbs. Despite this inconvenience, hundreds of students camp hours—and weeks—before a game, sacrifice their energy and voices, and lose significant study and sleep time.
So why do it? Why pick Cameron over that comfortable couch in a dorm’s common room?
My mom asked me this every time she called me when I tented for the Duke-UNC game. Unfortunately, our human language cannot accurately encapsulate this full-body and sensory experience that leaves a mark on all of our lives.
We don’t want to see the game. We want to feel the game.
We want to engage in a crowd that exudes energy to feed our spirits and make us feel alive in a way few other things can do. We want to, just temporarily, surrender our personal battles to join a larger battle that’s unanimously supported. We come as we are—with our different backgrounds, majors, histories and faiths—and collectively pour our support and love into a team, which is also comprised of diverse individuals.
It’s this unwavering unity and love that is missing in our world, and I cannot help but wonder how different the struggles of racism, classism, sexism, faithism would be if our actions in Cameron can leave Cameron.
Our different backgrounds at Duke will undoubtedly take us all over the world, and we as students are best posed to spread this relentless spirit. It does not matter which degree or major you have under your belt. Work in your field as passionately as you worked at Duke and look around and ask, “Who is not here? Who is not being served by my work? And how can I change that?”
You are privileged to get a formal education from Duke, but realize that there is a parallel education outside of our classrooms that is teaching us how to critically and meaningfully engage with the world outside of this campus.
Panels are created with our esteemed professors to discuss how we can move forward after recent events impacted members on our campus, such as the shootings in Ferguson and the adhan reversal.
Departments bring in experienced scholars to examine the healthcare system, affording us the ability to create informed decisions before we vote.
Conversations with dorm-mates offer us personal insight into some of the challenges students and friends are facing. With these interactions, we become empathetic and more proactive to marginalizing language and actions.
Your Duke experience is about using both this parallel education and this classroom education to ensure that we move the world forward. We are people before our careers, and you can advocate without becoming an activist. Similarly you can speak up against hateful language and discrimination without thinking if this fits into your role.
Just as Jahlil Okafor rarely leaves his team hanging, do your part so that "other" group isn’t fighting the fight alone.
Leena El-Sadek is a Trinity senior. Her column runs every other Wednesday.
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