You Don’t Know What Is Happening Here, Do You, Ms. Katehi?

Verrry interesting. The slow tap tap of her heels … in all that silence. Just devastating.

Depending on which video you see, her face is quite visible, and she seems to look out over that long line of students with some surprise. No threat. That there was no threat to her was palpable. That extraordinary silence. The smartest damn protest I’ve ever seen. We’ve come a long way since the Sixties. When general melee was all. That or stopping troop trains, that was a fair biggie. Then of course the trains were routed elsewhere, and eventually the tracks torn up. But whoa, lost in the past again.

Well-cut trenchcoat, stylish scarf, chancellor-casual hair. Meaning perfect-touseled, perfect-highlights. What you would expect of a woman of her position. Her income. Her expensive shoes (you can tell by the sound.)

I seemed to see … someone both frightened and let down. Did you? Did you see her look at the students, then down at her feet, then back at the long rows of students. Follow that gaze. Follow its movement. That’s what spoke. I don’t understand this,  I don’t understand any of it—and I am embarrassed. Nothing has prepared me for this. I have my answers prepared. Should anyone question me. But this silence …

Then as she neared her car, someone from the press finally spoke, and the act of replying seemed to pull her together. “I am going to speak at the general assembly on Monday.“

And then, from the car, faintly: “No, I don’t feel threatened.”

I agree. I think you felt something quite worse, Chancellor. Perhaps a bit naked? Perhaps, alone? With no script? With no idea what to think?

. . .something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?

Poor woman. Not the first fucking clue.