Austin, Texas – “It didn’t feel real.” That’s how Alishba Javaid, a student at the University of Texas at Austin, describes the moment she saw about 30 state troopers walk onto the campus lawn.
Javaid and hundreds of her classmates had gathered on the lawn in the shadow of the campus’s 300-foot-tall limestone tower to demonstrate against Israel’s war in Gaza.
They hoped their school would divest from manufacturers that supply weapons to Israel. Instead, more and more law enforcement agencies showed up.
By Javaid’s count, state troopers joined at least 50 colleagues already on the scene, all dressed in riot gear. The protest was peaceful, but nerves were high. The soldiers continued their advance.
“That was the first moment I was really scared,” Javaid, 22, said.
Finally, on April 24, dozens of students were arrested as officers tried to disperse protesters. Footage of the clashes between police and protesters quickly spread online, echoing images from other campus protests across the United States.
Still, Texans face a unique challenge as they contend with a far-right state government that has sought to curb anti-Israel protests.
In 2017, Gov. Greg Abbott signed a law banning government entities from working with companies that boycott Israel, and the state has since taken steps to further strengthen that law.
Abbott has also called the current protests “hateful” and “anti-Semitic,” reinforcing misconceptions about the protesters and their goals.
Additionally, a state law went into effect earlier this year that forced public universities to close their diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) offices.
Several students and staff told Al Jazeera that the campus had become less safe for people of color because of the law, which forced the departure of DEI advocates on staff.
“Undermining minorities through violence”
Violence continues on the University of Texas campus as students press ahead with their protests.
On the last day of classes, April 29, police used pepper spray and flash guns to clear a crowd on the Austin campus, while dozens more were surrounded and dragged away screaming by police.
Hiba Faruqi, a 21-year-old student, said her knee “just kept bleeding” after she was knocked over in an exchange between students and police.
However, she considers herself lucky that she did not suffer any serious injuries. It was surreal, she said, to imagine her own university calling state troopers — and then having to deploy medical personnel to help injured students.
“There is a racist element that people don’t want to talk about here,” she said. “There is a xenophobic element that people don’t want to acknowledge. There are more brown protesters, which may encourage police to do things a certain way.”
As calls for divestment continue to mount, students, lawyers and advocates told Al Jazeera they are being forced to contend with skepticism and outright hostility from the Texas government.
“Texas is known for using violence to oppress minorities,” Faruqi said. “The reason this is shocking people this time is because it doesn’t work.”
Review of University Endowments
Many of the protests were directed against the University of Texas Foundation, a fund bank that is intended to provide long-term support to its nine campuses.
The University of Texas system has the largest public education endowment in the country, valued at more than $40 billion.
Some of that money comes from investments in weapons and defense companies, as well as aerospace, energy and defense technology companies with close ties to Israel.
ExxonMobil, for example, is one of the biggest beneficiaries of the system’s investments and the company has supplied Israel with fuel for its fighter jets.
Those connections have fueled protests on the state’s public college campuses, including a May 1 demonstration at the University of Texas at Dallas.
Fatima – who only shared her first name with Al Jazeera out of fear for her safety – was among the protesters. She wiped the sweat from her brow as, as a small child, she led the crowd of about 100 in a series of chants: “Free, free, free Palestine!”
The divestment protests were largely peaceful, Fatima explained, raising her voice to be heard above the noise.
“Over 30,000 people have been murdered,” she said, referring to the death toll in Gaza, where Israel’s military campaign is entering its eighth month.
“And our university invests in weapons manufacturers who supply Israel with these weapons. We will stay here until our demands are met.”
That day, 21 students and staff were arrested in Dallas. Members of the Students for Justice in Palestine group, of which Fatima is a member, spent the night outside the county jail waiting for their friends to be released.
Outside the jail, one protester wryly remarked that they had been arrested for trespassing on their own campus, a seemingly nonsensical offense.
A thunderstorm began to appear in the background, causing the demonstrators to huddle together under the awning.
Texas officials and university administrators justified the police actions in part by citing the presence of outsiders who currently have no connection to the affected campuses.
But 30-year-old activist Anissa Jaqaman is also among those attending the university protests to provide relief supplies and support.
Everyone has a role to play, Jaqaman explained: Her role is sometimes that of communicator, but more often that of healer.
She has brought water to student protesters at the University of Texas at Dallas and hopes to provide a space for people to “come over and talk about how we heal.”
“This is a healing movement,” she said repeatedly when speaking to Al Jazeera. “We have to carry each other.”
Jaqaman is Texas through and through: She grew up in a Dallas suburb and is a strong advocate for her state.
“I’m a proud Texan,” she said. “I actually think Texans are some of the nicest people in the country.”
But while she was still a student, from 2012 to 2016, Jaqaman began using her voice to draw attention to the plight of Palestinians.
Human rights groups have long warned that Israel has imposed a system of apartheid on the ethnic group that subjects its members to discrimination and displacement.
In college, Jaqaman’s friends often laughed at her passion. She often smiles and exudes optimism, but her voice turns serious when she talks about Palestine and other issues such as the scourge of single-use plastics.
“They just thought I was a tree hugger but for human rights,” she explained in a soft but confident voice.
But the current war has increased their worries. The United Nations has signaled that there is a risk of “imminent famine” in parts of the Gaza Strip, and human rights experts have flagged the “risk of genocide” in the Palestinian enclave.
Jaqaman has been wearing her keffiyeh scarf since the war began on October 7, despite fears that this scarf could lead to violence against her.
“I wear it because I honestly feel like it protects my heart,” she said. “I feel like I’m doing an injustice to the Palestinian people if I don’t wear it.”
But she has struggled to get public officials to listen to her concerns about the war and divestment from industries tied to the Israeli military. For months she tried to convince her local city council that “this is a human issue, an issue for everyone,” without success.
“Everything we’re seeing right now is about ending the discussion,” she said. “Anyone who says anything about Palestine is labeled an anti-Semite. That’s a conversation end.”
Young demonstrators look to the future
Students like Javaid, a final semester journalism student, told Al Jazeera they are still trying to figure out what healing looks like – and what their future might look like. In many ways, she and her friends feel stuck.
They realize they need to take a break from searching for information about the war on social media, and yet that’s all they can think about.
The usual college rites of passage—final exams, graduation, and job hunting—just don’t seem as important anymore.
“How are we supposed to get back to work now?” asked Javaid after the protests.
Although she values her time at the university, she is also extremely critical of its actions to quell the protests. However, part of the blame lies with the government, she added.
“The fundamental problem in Texas is that the state government doesn’t care,” she said.
Born and raised in the Dallas area, Javaid plans to stay in Texas for at least a while after she graduates this month. However, she has mixed feelings about staying long-term.
She would like to work in the social justice field, particularly in higher education, but fears such a position would be scarce in her home state.
Nevertheless, she feels a sense of responsibility that binds her to the state. The political climate in Texas may be challenging, she said, but she has a duty — to her fellow protesters and to Palestine — to continue to play a role.
“I don’t want to just say, ‘Texas is crazy,'” Javaid said. “I want to be part of the people who are trying to make it better. Because if not us, who?”